


Happy Unbirthday

by LaBelleIzzy



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: M/M, Mild Kink, Mild Sexual Content, Multi, Podfic Welcome, Threesome - M/M/M, parse positive, transformative arts welcome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 17:11:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9667565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaBelleIzzy/pseuds/LaBelleIzzy
Summary: What they were playing with was still new, lighthearted, thank god. They were all three working together: sometimes gently, sometimes hilariously, to redefine the space between and around them....He waits, balanced in the tension of the moment, between asking and not-asking, between anticipation and receiving, in the chaotic space between plans and improvisation.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tamora Pierce](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Tamora+Pierce).



“Oh my goodness…” Bitty’s voice is warm with delight and mischief. “Is it my birthday? Jack? Jaaaaack…?” 

Kent can hear an echoing quality to the sound, which means Bitty has turned his head to call back up the stairs to the main part of the house. The sound of heavy footsteps on the top of the stairs, followed by the creak of the stair that’s just above halfway down. “Yeah, Bits?”

“Jack! Jack, I think it’s my birthday early…Kenny, here, he got me just the _nicest_ present!” Kent can hear Bitty’s grin embedded in his chirpy tone of voice.

Jack chuckles, trailing off into a sound of approval. “Mmmmm? Hmmm, maybe it IS your birthday. Pretty sure it’s not mine though. P’raps it’s an early Christmas present?”

Kent rolls his eyes behind his tightly closed eyelids, and tries to keep the smirk off his face. The heavy footsteps continue down the stairs. Jack’s voice is also warm, deep, affectionate, amused… and coming closer. “I’m going to guess this’s meant as a present for _both_ of us.”

Kent shivers just the tiniest bit at hearing Zimms’ voice getting husky at the “both of us”. 

*****  
What they were playing with was still new, and lighthearted, thank god. They were all three working together; sometimes gently, sometimes hilariously; to redefine the space between and around them. There was a bit of history between Bitty and Jack, there was a lot of old water under the bridge between him and Jack, and the place between him and Bitty was brand new, practically unexplored. 

Kent knows exactly how this looks. He planned for this, and he knows he looks good, “good enough to eat!” laid out like he is. Bitty has literally told him that on more than one occasion, and well, Jack seems to agree, but tells him mostly without words. How he looks at Kent now that they’ve talked, how he smiles now, the touch of his big hands, the winks and hip-checks in the kitchen or when they all walk down the street like goofy teenagers … Zimms flirts with him, and it’s easy and good. It’s so much better and relaxed, compared to the shame-faced and frantic what-used-to-be.

Over the last five years his therapist had helped him realize that he’d always found it difficult to be honest about what he wanted. He admitted to being a chameleon, always becoming what he _assumed_ other people wanted: the hockey star, the captain, the entertaining partner and light hearted lover. He had a much more difficult time being up front about even recognizing and admitting his own needs to himself, much less telling others what he needs and wants, what he hopes they will provide for him.

Kent hadn’t had a good track record of getting what he asked for, growing up. It made an impact on who he went out with and what he expected to get out of his dates or relationships, even his friendships. He had always tried to be pleasing: to be forward when someone welcomed his attention, to hold back a little if someone else was more immediately aggressive. It made him a great dance partner but was not really very useful in his dating life.

It’s a delicate business, this negotiation and communication they are all learning. Kent knows his strong suits, and plain talking has never been one of them. Sarcastically not talking about what he wants, that he can do. Denial and avoidance are firmly in his wheelhouse, as are hopeless pining and angry frustration.

Tonight he wants to try something new. And since mostly none of them are great at using their feelings words, Kent is starting out asking nonverbally for what he wants. His heart is fluttering, and there’s a curl of heated anticipation in the pit of his stomach as he waits for one, or both of them, to touch him.

*****  
He waits, balanced in the tension of the moment, between asking and not-asking, between anticipation and receiving, in the chaotic space between plans and improvisation.

Kent Parson is laid down on the weight bench in the weight room. He’s put himself into willing bondage there by holding a fifty pound dumbbell in each hand, so his arms are anchored down to either side of the bench, and he’s tucked his toes beneath the lifting handle of each of the 60 pound weights for the bench press bar. It’s not like he’s tied himself up, for them, not _really_. It’s more of a trust exercise with a quick release mechanism. He trusts them to do him right. He wants to see if he can trust himself to stay where he thinks he wants to be tonight, asking for what he wants in a new way. 

Here, now, trying to build trust with these two people he… yes he can say it, people he cares about. He can’t believe how good it feels to be here. Can’t believe he gets to try this, that they’ve invited him into this life they’re building, even some of the time.

“Hey there darlin’,” he shudders as a hand strokes lightly over the tips of his hair. This time, it’s from the unexpected gentleness of the contact. He’s never been used to gentleness, that’s a part of his problem. Bitty’s hand continues stroking through his hair. He can feel the backs of Bitty’s fingers caressing down the side of his face, continuing down his neck. “I can tell you’ve trying to tell us something, do you want to use your words or do you want us to do some exploring?” 

Kent snaps his mouth shut, not having realized he’d let it fall open at some point. He probably looked really dumb and distracted. He feels his skin flushing a dull red as Bitty’s fingers comb through his ridiculous tumble of hair (hey, he owns a mirror and a decent sense of fashion; he knows his hair is all over the place and sometimes looks totally stupid)... He takes in a deep breath and says, “green yellow red?”

After a moment, Jack chuckles. “You want to play opposites?” Bitty makes an enquiring noise. “Yeah, it’s something we used to do once in awhile, a long time ago.” Kent can feel air move on his naked sweaty skin as Zimms kneels down next to the weight bench, next to HIM on the weight bench. He can feel all his muscle fibers stretching through his arms and his chest as they pull, weighted to the ground. He repositions his hands on the dumbbells just a bit to make sure his grip is secure. He can feel his heart race a bit, his breathing deepen, his skin almost yearning towards where he knows that big dumb Canadian has settled next to him on the floor.

Lost in his own head, he almost misses it when Jack shifts position, brings his face close, his breath distinct on Kent’s neck. The radiant heat of his chest almost glows against Kent’s right side, it feels like a living furnace next to him. There’s a temptation to let go, to reach out and touch. It’s nearly as strong as the impulse to open his eyes and see Jack’s expression, but he’s promised himself he will do his best to keep to the rules he’s set himself. It’s okay if he’s not perfect, but he’s going to try, in spite of Jack Zimmermann finally coming close enough to properly touch. 

The two of them just exist for a moment, Jack breathing onto his skin, Kent’s fine hairs standing at attention, all his focus on that one place where they’re only ALMOST touching.

Contact is unexpected when it happens, and it takes Kent a moment to realize what Jack’s doing, because the breathing pattern on his skin is heavier, warmer, more direct… and so electric. Such a simple thing, to stroke skin upon skin… Jack’s nose is softer than Kent remembered. Or has he ever felt the touch of Jack’s nose, stroking gently, softly, along his collarbone before? Kent hears a sudden inhale and senses a shift, a movement… the soft skin gently stroking him moves to his jawbone, snags slightly on his evening stubble.

“Ohhhh,” he hears himself say, finishing with a sigh. It feels too good, for something so small. Such a tiny gesture can’t possibly feel so good. Jack’s slow steady breath warms his neck, and suddenly he can’t bear not to be touched there, so he says in a small voice, “oh. Oh, please don’t kiss my neck a little bit.”

He can hear a sudden sharp intake of breath on his left, and a pause in the warmth bathing his right neck and chest. Then, he feels the soft touch of lips on the side of his neck. Once, twice, three times. 

“Please don’t do _more_ of that,” He barely breathes sound into the words.

The strange request is met with its exact opposite. Gentle kisses rain down warmly upon his skin, so tenderly that he screws his eyelids shut in order to not break the spell. He feels warm hands come to rest on the bench next to where his chest is heaving in large gulps of air when he remembers to breathe. Warm hands. On both sides of him.

Bittle. Bitty… “Bitty?”

“Yes, Kenny?” Someone else sounds a little breathless, it’s not just him.

“Bitty, please don’t pet my face and hair like you did before?”

“Certainly not, sweetheart…” And a moment later gentle hands are running through his scalp, fingertips stroking his forehead, tight with the tension of keeping his eyes shut, his cheekbones, rasping in his five-o’clock shadow, running lightly over the shell of his ear, down behind to the back of his neck.

Kent’s floating away on gentle neck kisses and stroking of his face. He’s never been here before, he doesn’t know what comes next.

A pause in the kisses, which have trailed down to his collarbone and up to his hairline and jaw. Jack’s nose strokes his neck again, with the warm breath. “Kenny, is there anything else we should _definitely not_ do here?” Jack’s voice is full of suppressed laughter but is also dark and a little hungry.

Into the darkness and the red sparkles caused by clenching his eyelids tightly shut, Kent confesses, "Um Bitty, you should definitely not sit up on me and kiss me… Jack you should definitely not play with the hair on my legs or stroke my arms.”

So that’s what Bitty and Jack did, till Kent’s breathing was harsh and irregular, his neck straining up and mouth locked passionately with Bitty’s, whose hands are braced on Kent’s shoulders and knees astride Kent’s waist. The skin on his arms and legs have been gently stroked and sensitized till all of Kent’s skin seemed like iron filings, half his attention drawn to the fucking electromagnet of Jack Zimmerman’s touch, half lost in the mouth and hands of Eric Bittle, who picks this moment to come up for air.

Gasping he says, “Zimms, please… oh god, please don't rub your chest on mine while you pull my hair and kiss me hard." He feels Bitty slide off the weight bench with a last caress. Then long strong legs bracket his hips and his hair is taken up at the nape of his neck in Jack’s long fingers. Bruising kisses are applied to his mouth, and he chases them, loses himself in the sensations.

The next time Kent comes back to himself, he struggles to keep hold of the weights he’s intentionally gripping and begs, "oh god don't bite my neck while you slowly stroke my inner thighs" and then it’s "don't lick my obliques,"... “don’t take your fingernails to scratch down my chest,” “don’t bite my nipples gently.”

After a glorious timeless little while, he realizes he’s lost track, both of what he’s asked for, and who’s doing what to him in the moment. 

He’s never drowned in a sea this warm and this incredibly sensuous. He’s never been able to trust his partners to this degree before, and he hears himself say, in a voice that's slurring like he’s stoned (he’s never been stoned, he’s never been willing to give up that much control), “Please, please both of you: please don’t … AH!” (that was a bite on his hip!) “Please don’t _wreck me completely…_ ” 

Several improvisations later he’s barely able to string words together, he knows he’s a hot mess. They’re all three breathing hard, and he’s heard Bitty and Jack kissing furiously over his head a few times while he takes a break, catches his breath. They’ve undone the wide red ribbon that he’d tied in a bow around the weight bench and his own waist, at his “please don’t” request… his basketball shorts are pulled down around his ankles, again after his “please don’t”. 

Kent’s one long string of overheated skin and nerve endings. He’s about to fall completely to pieces. His cock is hard and leaking, untouched, because following the rules of the game, he was begging them to touch him, which was the best guarantee that they wouldn’t. (He might be a bit of a masochist.) Somebody’s groaning while they manhandle his face, kissing him deeply with their hands buried in his hair, massaging his scalp. He’s pretty sure it’s Bitty because there is one giant hand holding him down at his sternum and another warmly sliding up and down the skin of his thighs and playfully nudging against his balls. Kent didn’t know he still had enough awareness in his body that his cock could GET harder, but it does. 

Bitty, it’s got to be Bitty, is stroking his hair, kissing his cheek.

“Kenny? Kenny sweetheart... “ Bitty’s voice is ragged, right there next to his ear. Kent feels a warm, open mouthed kiss land, high up his inner thigh. Jack.

Bitty. And Jack. How did he ever get this lucky, oh my god he is so fucking lucky, he’s the luckiest bastard in the NHL.

“Kenny?” Bitty’s voice slides into a higher pitch.

“Bitty? Is it okay? Is anything the matter?” Kent doesn’t like Bitty sounding hesitant like that.

Bitty’s voice is throaty, sexy as hell. His phrasing timid, a bit awkward. “Kenny, um… please _don’t_ open your eyes?”

Bitty understood. Despite him and Jack not making the rules of the game explicit, he understood. 

Kent is pretty sure he’s fallen in love again. He’s even more sure when he finally relaxes his forehead, opens his eyes. Bitty’s skin is flushed bright pink, he’s biting his lip adorably, a shy smile beams out. Bitty’s hand is stroking again through his sweaty hair, and gently down the side of his face.

Jack drops another kiss on his thigh. Kent can just see those blue blue eyes over the top of his leg, and the smile crease deepens at the corner of Jack’s eyes. He holds eye contact with Kent and gnaws briefly on the muscle ridge that joins the quads to the knee. Kent groans from the pleasure of the bite, of seeing Zimms down THERE, watches Bitty’s face change from tender toward hungry and fierce.

“Kenny?” Bitty ventures, with a flash of eyebrows that surely means more mischief… it’s the same exact tone Kent has heard Bitty tease Jack with, and the beauty of the moment makes him catch his breath. Bitty’s fingertips dance lightly across Kent’s collarbones and tweak a nipple hard enough that Kent hisses.

Kent’s eyes are locked on him as Bitty saunters around the top of the bench near his head. 

Bitty tosses over his shoulder, “Honey, don’t you _dare_ … join us over here on the mat.”

Hips swaying, Bitty stalks towards Jack, who scooches back a bit to make room for him. Dropping down into his lap, Bitty reaches out to lean Jack’s head back and to the side for neck kisses. Bitty’s eyes flick up to watch Kent where he’s levered up to one elbow on the weight bench. Jack’s throat is bared, his eyes closed, his mouth slack as Bitty nibbles down to his shoulder, holding eye contact with Kent the whole time.

Kent’s dizzy, drunk from touch and sensation and kissing. He opens and closes his hands and blinks a few times as he lets himself sober up a little. Hands are stiff from the hard grip he’s kept on the weights, his face and jaw muscles locked up a little, his body tense from all the teasing and from lying still in the same position for so long.

He swings his leg back over the weight bench and kicks free of his discarded shorts. Bitty’s eyes widen the moment he shifts to hands and knees. Kent’s feeling slightly smug over Bitty’s reaction and too entirely turned on to travel the short distance by walking. He knows he can make this crawl look really good, with his back arched and cock swinging freely.

He tumbles into them, all three of them knocked down to the padded floor of the workout room, a tangle of limbs and touching and kisses. 

Everyone’s eyes are open. Kisses are falling on all available skin, and nobody cares whose. Hands are stroking, grasping big handfuls of flesh (thank all the gods for glorious hockey thighs and butts!). Kent is holding Jack’s face and kissing him desperately when Bitty bites hard at his shoulder, rubbing his chest and erection all along Kent’s back. Kent shudders, neck arching, body twisting back to scoop Bitty up in his arm and drag him around and into his lap.

The three of them shift so that Bits kneels up in front of them straddling Kent’s lap, and Jack’s legs are a long V on the outside. Jack cuddles up behind, mouth on Kent’s neck, one long arm stretched up to join him in touching Bitty’s body in long slow strokes while Bitty rolls his hips and whimpers, trying to get the angle right. Jack’s other hand is wedged between Kent and Bitty, stroking Kent’s (or Bitty’s) belly and chest or playing with his nipples. 

Kent grips Bitty’s back and ass and thigh as they rub together, the friction so close to exactly what he needs, the tenderness he feels overflowing any possible containment on all edges of his skin. He can feel Jack solid as a mountain, hot and hard behind him, Jack’s mouth on his skin, Jack’s murmured words in one ear. In front of him, a lapful of warm Bitty, his neck arching back and so beautiful, begging to be kissed and licked and bitten.

Watching in wonder, touching almost reverently… he turns Bitty’s face down to him for more kisses, cradles his head and lays a line of fierce kisses and bites down his neck. When Bitty cries out in reaction, Kent whispers, gasping, into his ear, putting all the pleading into his voice that he can: “Please, please don't make me all _messy_ , Bits,” grinding backward into Jack, who tweaks his nipple and bites him just so on his ear, driving him forward into Bitty again. The energy between them all is sparking and building towards a crescendo. “Bitty, PLEASE don't rub off on me, please don't come all over my belly and chest and face, oh _GOD please don't do that_...”

Jack’s chuckle behind him is dark and rich and FILTHY. He shifts the hand between Kent and Bitty so he encircles both their cocks with his huge warm hand, giving them both the perfect sensations. They both groan and squirm and pant as Jack helps them make a mess all over Kent. Kent fires off first unsurprisingly, with how long the other two had been teasing him, and Bitty follows soon after, making the sweetest noises.

In their slow slump against each other, Bitty and Kent both recover with slow kisses and caresses, laughing about the mess for a moment. Jack wipes his hand off on someone’s discarded briefs and then snuggles back up to the other two, which makes Kent realize that Jack’s still hard.

“Jack?” Kent arches his head back to rest on Jack’s shoulder.  
“Mmmm?” Jack drops a kiss on Kent’s throat.  
“You good, babe?” 

Bitty frowns just slightly, hearing the question, but Kent gasps when Jack’s erection nudges up against his lower back and the crack of his ass. The energy is still there, but banked like the coals of a fire. Kent can feel it like a surge of warmth through his chest and his groin. His cock tries valiantly to get hard again, to no avail.

“I’m fine, mon chou. Unlike SOME people, I don’t mind waiting my turn.” Jack’s smile as he chirps Kent is a thing of beauty, of dirty, filthy promise. “Let’s go get cleaned up and maybe someone will help me out with this, eh?” 

“Mmmm, yeah, well, good things come to those who wait, Jack,” Bitty purrs in Kent’s ear.

“Don’t you mean good things COME to those who wait, Bitty?” Kent tips his head and blinks wide innocent eyes at Bitty, still in his lap.

Bitty tsks, a sly half smile on his face. “Lord knows you’re not subtle, Kent Parson. It’s a good thing you’re pretty.” He trails a gentle finger down the side of Kent’s face and uses that finger to tip his face up for a better angle on a kiss.

Kent preens a bit as they all untangle, with good natured bickering about which shirt is whose and who’s next on laundry duty. Both Kent and Bitty crowd around Jack for a while to touch him, to tease him until his eyes grow dark and a shudder runs down his back. Then, smiling, Bitty takes Jack by the hand to lead them all upstairs. Kent has a moment to ogle and palm the curve of Jack’s beautiful butt without shame, grinning as they all head back up into the main living area.

What an incredibly good day it is to be him.

**Author's Note:**

> come find my main blog at labelleizzy on tumblr and Dreamwidth, or my omgcp sideblog at makeshittyknightproud: I reblog fanart, fanfic, and meta.
> 
> please read Ngozi's comic Check, Please!  
> you can start here: http:// omgcheckplease .tumblr .com/post/57705111693


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